


The Island of Lost Things

by HikaruRyu



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: #TeamIronMan (sorry not sorry), Comic Books Science, Depression, Fix–it, Getting Together, Low Self–esteem, M/M, Post Civil War II, Pre Secret Empire, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 05:25:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17574731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HikaruRyu/pseuds/HikaruRyu
Summary: There is an island where all things lost end up, one way or another. After being beaten into a coma by Captain Marvel, Tony Stark wakes up on the beach of that island. He isn’t the only one there.





	The Island of Lost Things

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:** Written on the prompt “There is an island where all things lost end up, one way or another. One day, you wake up, cold and wet, on the beach of that island.” Taken  [ HERE ](http://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/169718180685/there-is-an-island-where-all-things-lost-end-up) on Tumblr, from  **@writing–prompt–s**
> 
>  
> 
> Hi! This is only the second fic I’ve wrote in english and also the first one in the 616’s universe. I had an amazing beta,  [ artirox ](https://artirox.tumblr.com/) , who was very kind and supportive, and made an amazing jobe. But if you find any errors, please let me know!
> 
>   
> 

The first thing he heard were the waves. They sounded soothing and very far away. He could feel the sun on his skin, all over his body. And for an instant his mind was blissfully empty, and everything perfect. 

Then cold, salty water washed up to him, covering him head to toe before retiring, and Tony woke up sputtering. He choked and coughed helplessly, rising himself on all fours. Bright, golden sand molded between his fingers. 

Tony looked around, confused. He was on a beach, in the middle of nowhere. And he was completely naked.

“What the fuck...” he croaked. How the hell did he ended up there? Tony couldn’t for the life of him remember.  _Okay, Stark, not the first time you wake up naked and without memories of the previous night_ , he thought.  _But sure as hell is been a while_ . Fuck, had he drank? No, no, he didn’t have an hangover.  _Come on, Avenger, think! What’s the last thing you recall?_ Carol. Carol flying towards him, punch raised to beat him. The fight over Miles. The new superheroes’ Civil War. Fuck.  _Am I dead?_

Tony fell on his heels, hands still planted in the sand. A wave washed back to him, caressing his knees. He looked around with more attention, taking in the details; this sure as fuck didn’t look like Hell. It didn’t look like Heaven either. Just a few feet from the water, there were piles of… junk. Not like trash, just casual junk. There were rings and toys, books and unpaired earrings, lighters, keys, pens… all new, all beautiful. They looked cherished, not like something you would throw away.

Tony stood up and started walking around. He spotted something that looked a lot like a milk tooth, small and white like a pearl. A copy of  _Asimov Chronicles_ he recognized immediately, even if the genius was sure he hadn’t seen it since his last year at MIT. When Tony picked up the book, he found his name on the first blank page. And there, just beside him, was the first engine he had ever made, back when he was four. He kept walking and, after a few paces, Tony saw something he thought he would never see again: it was a Teddy Bear in a domino mask and double-breasted blue jacket, with bright red pants.

“Bucky Bear!” he murmured, letting the book fall and grabbing the toy instead. It was a regular Teddy Bear, once. But Jarvis had sewed the little clothings and cut a mask for it—him—so that Tony could have his Bucky when he played at being Captain America. “Oh my God,” the genius smiled, caressing his fur. It was his favorite toy and had had the best spot on Tony’s bed for years. Until, when Tony was about seven, Howard decided his son was too old for those kind of things and made Bucky Bear disappear.

“How the hell did you end up here, buddy?” Tony wondered, looking the Bear straight in his button eyes. Of course Bucky couldn’t answer, but the genius didn’t let go of him when he started walking again. 

The path he chose was totally random. Here and again Tony discovered familiar things—a Lego house he built when he was three, his Mother’s favorite music sheet, a cufflink he had lost during a fight—and though he was tempted to claim them back, he let them go.

At some point, Tony became aware of the fact that he couldn’t hear the waves of the ocean anymore. It was silent for so long that when a faint melody drifted his way, he almost thought it was all in his head. On instinct, he picked that direction, following the music. Tony didn’t recognized the song, but it sounded like... Marlene Dietrich? Something... something Cap would listen too.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but it was anyway; when he crossed a hill of forgotten things, behind it he found the source of the music—an old gramophone—and, next to it, Steve. 

Steve Rogers. 

Steve Rogers himself set on a rocking chair, dressed only in a pair of suit pants too small for him, suspenders hooked on his bare shoulders. He was reading a worn copy of  _A Tree Grows in Brooklyn_ , and the sun shone through his golden hair like a halo.

Enthralled, the genius tripped on a pile of other books and Cap turned his face to the sound, finally noticing him.

“Tony?” Steve exclaimed, incredulous, jumping to his feet. “Is that really you, Shellhead?” 

“I’m dreaming,” concluded Tony, dumbfounded, righting himself. “This must be a dream. Carol knocked me out and I’m having a really lucid dream.” He used the Teddy Bear to cover his modesty.

“I don’t know about that,” Cap admitted. “Why would Carol knock you out, anyway?”

“ _Why?_ Yep, dreaming. Totally dreaming.”

Then Steve grabbed his shoulders, steadying him, and the touch of his palms on Tony’s naked skin was unbelievably real. “You are really here,” the super soldier said, but more like he was talking to himself. “I don’t think this is a dream, Tony,” he added.

“What the hell is this place, Cap?”

“I’m not sure,” Steve admitted. “Let’s find you something to put on, first,” he proposed, patting his back and turning around, starting to look in the piles for some kind of clothes. 

 

The piles of bright, colorful things looked like something out of one of Doctor Strange’s dimensions. Something which only the Sorcerer Supreme could make sense of. The stacks were so high they had become hills and obstructed the sight. The ocean wasn’t visible anymore; even if it couldn’t be too far, to see it they should probably have to climb a pile. 

Cap seemed to know his way around and brought the other man to a place where there were smaller stacks, each one made of the same kind of objects: one of books, one of useful electronics and one of clothes. 

“Did you do this?” the genius asked.

“I had some time,” Steve shrugged. 

They didn’t find another pair of pants, but eventually Tony stumbled upon a burgundy satin dressing gown and happily claimed it. “I feel so decadent,” he said, closing the waistband in a knot.  

“Is this a Teddy Bear dressed like Bucky?” Steve asked, politely not looking in the other Avenger’s direction while he dressed, and instead grabbing the toy Tony had carefully set down. “Cute.”

Tony refused to blush. “Yeah, that’s mine.” 

Thankfully, Cap didn’t ask any explanation. “I think I want one too,” he said instead.

The genius snatched it back. He could feel a pressing curiosity to browse through the piles of bright objects and see what else they could find—especially in the electronics’ one—but there where more pressing matters. “How did you end up here, Steve? Last time I saw you, you were trying to help Spider-Man.”

The super soldier looked surprised. “Spider-Man? I—I don’t remember anything like that. I mean, of course I would help Spider-Man if he needed me, but… no, I don’t recall anything like that. Which one, anyway?”

“The kid on my team.”

“I barely know him,” Cap said, spreading his hands in an helpless gesture.

Tony absently scratched his beard. “Funny you would say that again.”

“ _Again?_ ”

“You said the same thing after Ulysses’ last vision. That’s why you wanted to talk to Miles. He’s a nice kid, it just doesn’t make sense that he would  _kill_ you.” 

Steve was silent for a long heavy minute, frowning. “Who the hell is Ulysses?” he said at last.

The genius froze. “ _What?_ ” he replied, breathless.

“Tony, I have no idea what you are talking about.” 

It felt like someone had pull the rug under his feet. Suddenly, Tony felt his knees bend. But he didn’t let himself fall. He was to seasoned a hero and businessman to let the shock show on is feature. Instead Tony straightened even more, smiling brightly while thinking frantically. “Really?” he said to take time.

Oh God… okay, okay, so Cap didn’t know. How was that even possible? Did– Did it meant this Steve wasn’t real, after all? But he  _felt_ real. Did it mean Cap had lost his memories? Or—or did it mean  _he_ was wrong? Maybe it was all a product of Tony’s imagination. This place, Steve, everything... 

“You called me  _Shellhead_ ,” he realized, suddenly.

The super soldier winced. “What about it?” he said anyway.

“You haven’t call me that in—in years,” Tony whispered, picking at him through his fingers. When did it happen last time? It felt like a lifetime ago. Before the Incursions. Before the first Civil War even. Maybe before the Avengers disassembled for the first time. He couldn’t remember.

Silence.

Steve’s face was shadowed, his eyes on the ground, hands in his pockets. Steve’s mouth was upturned in that curve it always took when he was sad; that upturned curve that always constricted Tony’s heart. And it looked so miserable and at odds with the sunny atmosphere of the place. But just when the genius was about to say something—something to break that uncomfortable silence—Cap beat him: “You haven’t called me Winghead either.” 

Tony stared at him, dumbfounded, mouth hanging open like a dimwit. “I—I didn’t think you would like it,” he blurted out. “I—I mean—you—you stopped. So… so I stopped too. I guess.”

Steve blinked a couple of times, evidently surprised. “I think this is the longest conversation we have had in ages,” he observed.

The other man felt his heart squeezing again and gave the Captain a half smile. Then Tony picked himself up and dusted his legs so he didn’t have to look at Steve. So he didn’t have to say something else stupid like: ‘I didn’t think you would like that either’, or fall on his knees and cry: ‘Sorry! I’m so fucking sorry’.

“ _Shellhead_ ...” mumbled Rogers. “I miss that. Us,” he admitted.

And Tony—Tony  _snapped_ . 

“That’s it,” he said, curt. “That’s it. You’re a dream. You’re not real—”

“Tony—”

“Because, you see, there is no way— _no._ Way.—that  _Steve Rogers_ would say something like  _that_ to _me_ ,” he continued, pointing an accusing finger at him. 

To this day, Steve could still barely stand the sight of him. All their interactions were painfully polite. It wasn’t so long ago the Captain had tried to kill him; the Multiverse was dying and Steve Rogers’ last actions had been to search for Tony Stark, with the explicit purpose to end his life. At the end of the world they were fighting each other.

“Well— _maybe because it’s hard,_ ” Steve spoke in a carefully controlled voice, stressing every word, but he was so evidently furious he may as well have exploded with the blinding rage of a nuke. “Because it’s fucking  _hard_ to say it. Because every damn time I try, you make me regret it! And I’m  _tired_ . I’m tired to be—to be make a  _fool_ . I would like to stop  _caring_ . I  _would_ . But I can’t!” he spat, like he was hating every word. “I just— _can’t_ ,” Cap concluded in a strangled voice, eyes on the ground, exhausted.

And Tony felt himself falling to pieces. Because he deserved each and every one of those hateful words. And they weren’t new. They were words he said to himself every day of the week, every hour of the day, and they weren’t even the worst he could think of. “You are right,” he whispered. He didn’t deserve that caring. He didn’t deserve Steve. He never did.

“I  _am_ real,” Captain America said firmly, straightening himself in all of his height and glory, azure eyes blazing. Even without his costume, he looked sublime. Like Justice personified.

Tony didn’t doubt him now. Not anymore. No one could fake that. But—“But how could you be here? Why? And while we are on that subject,  _where_ is here?  _What_ is this place?” 

Steve’s pose mollyfied slightly. “I—I’m not sure,” he repeated. “It’s an island. A very small one; I walked the beach often enough to be sure. And all manner of... things,  _lost_ things, seem to end up here.”

“Lost things?”

“Yeah. Lost. Or forgotten, I guess. That’s why—” Steve hesitated, just for a second, but it was there. “That’s why I’m here, I think.”

Tony frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It would if I’m dead.”

The genius frowned even more. “You think this is some kind of afterlife?” Steve shrugged, unhelpfully, and Tony shook his head. “That makes even less sense.” He dismissed the mere thought.

“Why not?” Cap asked, crossing his arms, a little annoyed.

“No one would ever forget  _you_ , Steve,” Tony stressed, like it was unthinkable. Because it was. Even the notion was nonsense.

“They would, if there was no one left to remember me. If everyone who knew  _me_ —plain old Steve Rogers—was also dead,” the super soldier explained. 

“What?” Tony exclaimed, incredulous.

“Eventually, it has to happen. It  _will_ happen.”

The genius looked at him, uncomprehending. “Steve... Steve that’s just not—not possible,” he said very softly. “You have seen the future. You are  _Captain America_ . The world, humanity will never— _ever_ —forget you. Even when America will be no more. Even when Earth will be abandoned, humanity would  _never_ forget you. And if they will—if humanity will be no more—you are friends with gods and immortals. You think Thor, or Vision, or—hell, even Wolverine, would ever forget you?” 

“People get amnesia, get old, or something even worse could happen to them. Besides... gods and immortals, they are really hard to kill and have a truly incredible lifespan, but eventually they will die too,” Steve shrugged again. “And you are the one always telling me the future isn’t fixed, Tony. What we saw... it doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

_I would never let them_ , Tony thought impulsively.  _I would never let the universe forget you_ . “Then why would  _I_ be here?” he said instead, stubborn. “And why not sooner? In your theory, it doesn’t make sense that  _you_ would be here before  _me_ .”

Steve looked confused now. “Why not?” he asked again.

“Because it’s pretty obvious humanity will forget me  _before_ you!”

“No. No they wouldn’t,” Cap shook his head vehemently. “Generations of Starks would be there till the last moment trying to save– to save everyone!” he exclaimed like that was obvious.

“Maybe,” the genius conceded. “But they wouldn’t care about me.”

“ _That_ doesn’t make sense,” Steve deadpanned.

Tony scoffed. “Let’s agree to disagree,” he replied.  _Not likes that’s new, anyway_ , he added in his mind. Out loud, he asked: “How did you end up in this place? What’s the last thing you recall?”

“I was fighting Crossbones and then—then I woke up here, on the beach.”

“ _Crossbones_ ?” he repeated, trying to remember the last time he heard Cap had had problems with him. “Wait, that would be in—”

“Pleasant Hill. Maria’s latest brilliant idea,” Steve concluded. “I was trying to stall Crossbones, keep him from finding Kobik. I knew Sam, Bucky and the Avengers would be there soon, so I kept going, but... I knew I really didn’t stand a chance. I just had to hide Kobik long enough,” he sighed. “I guess I didn’t make it.”

Tony felt frozen right through his core. “No. No, that’s—that’s not possible,” he breathed. “That was  _months_ ago.” 

He remembered that day, Steve calling them to assemble and appearing suddenly as young and strong as he was before the Incursions. The sheer awe all of them felt in having him back. The passion and reassurance of his speech. He had talked about setting their differences aside, about being a family again. Steve said he had realized all of that—the meaninglessness of the Avengers’ internal disputes—while... 

“You almost died,” Tony recalled. “Emphasis on  _almost_ . Kobik saved you! She made you young again.”

“No, Tony. I’m sorry. This place doesn’t really have a night an’ day cycle, so I don’t know how much time has passed, but I’m pretty sure I’ve been here since then.”

“But—”  _But if Steve was here for this entire time and he_ is _real, then_ —“then who is the other Steve?” he said, without even realizing he’d said it out loud.

Cap froze too, face shadowed. “What  _other_ Steve?”

But the genius couldn’t hear him because his own heart felt deafening in his ears.  _No, no, no, no, no_ ... How could that Steve been someone—something—else? How could no one have caught it? How... Steve was with him, was on his side against Carol, for one time—this miraculous, amazing time, in which Tony was so  _certain_ that he was right, because Steve Rogers was  _with_ him—they were on the same side. He had counted on that. Bet everything on it—him—on  _Steve_ . Tony had told him—told him…

_“So there it is… You tell me… You tell me I’m crazy. You tell me I’m wrong. You tell me and I swear I’ll give up. If you tell me to stop... I will. Because I’ve learned, finally, after all this years… I’m going to_ listen  _to_ Steve Rogers _.”_

If—if Steve wasn’t real, then—then…

“—ony? Tony!” Someone grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him hard. “ _Breathe_ , Tony. You have to breathe. Come on, Stark. Stay with me, Avenger.” Steve, it was Steve. Steve was here. And for an instant, he almost felt relief, because Steve was with him. And if Steve was there, then everything could be solved. But—but if Steve was here then—

_“_ Control  _issues._ Trust  _issues._ Paranoia. Manic behavior _. Tony, I need you to tell me the truth—when was your last drink?”_

“Oh God,” Tony whimpered. Cap asked him that. He actually insinuated Tony would—“Oh God. He’s not real. He—he—oh God have mercy.” The genius felt his knees buckle and this time only Steve’s hands kept him standing. “Why—Why would he do that to me?” Cap—the real Cap—would  _never_ have said something like that. Why didn’t Tony think about that before? How could he let himself be fooled by that?

“Tony—Tony, what happened? Who are you talking about?”

“You. I—I thought it was you. We—we all did— _do_ . We all think it’s you. And—and I—I—”  _What have I done? Oh God, I’m crazy. I’ve been crazy all along. How could I not see it? How could I_ —

Something soft was pressed right on his face, obscuring his vision. Tony inhaled a familiar scent, but before he could even barely feel like choking on it, the thing was moved to his cheek. The genius blinked, confused, and instinctively brought his hands up to grab it, his fingers finding soft fur. Bucky Bear.

Once Steve was certain the other man had the toy, he started rubbing his hands up and down Tony’s arms, almost like he was trying to warm him up. “Everything is going to be okay,” he said firm. “Whatever it is, we are going to fix it, Iron Man,” he promised.

Tony hid his face in the Bear again. “You have no idea, Cap. You have no idea what I’ve done.”

“Then tell me,” the super soldier replied. “Will you tell me?”  _Will you tell me_ this  _time?_ was kind of the implicit meaning; opposite to all the times Tony hadn’t talked to him, had chosen to lie to him. The genius nodded and let Cap gently guide him away. 

 

They walked back through the hills of forgotten things and made it to the beach. It was a different spot from the one Tony had woke up in; here there were large rocks in the sand trailing all the way to the water. Steve sat on one of them, prompting Tony to do the same. The waves lapped at their bare feet, and the sound was soothing, the wind gentle.

“Tell me,” Steve encouraged him, showing his palms in a open gesture. So Tony did. Starting with that fateful attack in Japan and the after party. Ulysses. Carol’s choices. The Illuminati’s new reunion, with Steve at the head—or the man they all thought was Steve—and Captain Marvel present. The new fight. The vision of Spider-Man killing Captain America. Carol trying to arrest the kid. Their last battle…

“And now Rhodey is dead. Bruce is dead. And you…” Tony took is head in both hands. “I swear I thought it was you, Cap. I thought you were with me. So—so I was so certain…” he choked at last.

“Tony…” sighed Steve.

“I know—”

“Tony—”

“I messed up, again—” 

“ _Tony_ , let me finish,” Cap said firmly. “Look at me. Look at me, Iron Man,” he ordered then. When the genius met his gaze, blue eyes full of unshed tears, he continued: “Don’t get me wrong, obviously I would have preferred you and Carol didn’t start  _another_ war,” Steve paused letting that sink in, then sighed. “But... for what it’s worth, I think—I think you did the best you could.”

“You—you do?” Tony said, incredulous.

Steve nodded. “From what you have said, I think you would have convinced me too,” he remarked. “And clearly this impostor knows me well, or he wouldn’t be able to fool people like you or Sam, or heck—he even convinced Bucky! No one knows me better than you guys.”

Tony breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“And Tony... I’m so sorry for Jim. And Bruce. God, that must have been horrible.”

The genius tried not to break into tears all over again. Since Rhodey’s death, Tony had found himself falling apart too many times. And too often in front of other people. He felt so lost. So alone. Jim was like a brother to him, more than his own recent found brother Arno really was and probably ever could be. And Bruce—Bruce trusted him, Bruce was his partner, the only other scientist Tony felt that had ever understood him.

“I—I miss them so much.”

Steve pressed a hand on his shoulder. “I know. I know how that feels.” 

Of course he did. After all, for a long time Cap thought Bucky Barnes had died while he—even if stuck in ice—had survived. And only much, much later had Steve found out that a fate worse than death had befallen his best pal.

_It’s not the same_ , Tony thought. Not only was Barnes alive and kicking, but Rhodey’s death...  _It was my fault. I should have upgraded War Machine’s armor a long time ago_ . He didn’t say anything though, because then Steve probably would have been compelled to comfort him, or at least to try, and Tony didn’t deserve that.

“What are we gonna do?” he asked instead.

Steve sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve been here for awhile, now, and I haven’t found any way to go back, or even to send a message. Though, I did think I was dead—still kind of do, actually—so… Well, I guess I haven’t searched all that thoroughly,” he mused.

“You really thought this was it,” the genius observed, still incredulous. 

“Yes, Tony, I really did. But if you are right—”

“I am.”

“ _If_ you are right and this  _isn’t_ the afterlife, then we have to find a way back.”

“But you haven’t found any.”

“ _I’m_ not the scientist here, Iron Man,” Cap reminded him. “If something is here, I probably overlooked it. You are our best shot.”

“Okay, so let’s get to work. Maybe in the pile of electronic junk you made there’s something I can cannibalize,” Tony stood up, dusting the back of his legs.

 

Just a few minutes later, the two Avengers looked skeptically at said pile of electronic junk. It was mostly things like floppy disks, headphones, and plugs, with the odd parts of a Macintosh or iPod standing out. Tony arched an eyebrow.

“Are you sure you can cook something from… these?” Steve asked.

“You know, once I made a time machine from the spare parts of Doom’s and of mine armor,” the genius said. 

“Yeah, I’ve heard that story a few times. Or a hundred.”

“This is going to be harder,” Tony deadpanned. “Mostly because I have no idea where we are. Think of this like waking up drunk in the middle of the desert in a nation you’ve never been in, with no recollection of how you ended up there, no map, no compass and even the sky too cloudy to navigate by the stars, and… well, this would still be worse. And I’m not even drunk.” 

“Swell,” Cap concluded. “Okay Tony, do what you can. I’ll sort out what’s around an’ see if I can find something more useful.”

“Okie-dokie,” Tony singsonged, trying not to smile. He loved when Steve regressed to ’40’s slang.

They worked in silence for a while, both absorbed in his own task and in his own mind. Every now and then, the genius mattered something under his breath—calculations or curses—while he stripped wires with his bare hands and disassembled things with a makeshift screwdriver. Every now and then, Steve paused to glance at him with a thoughtful expression, or a barely–there smile. The pile of electronic junk grew and at some point Cap exhumed a beat-up toolbox that Tony snatched enthusiastically like it was the best gift he ever received; after that, the work proceeded much faster.

Then there was the sound of something short circuiting and, suddenly, with a loud BANG! Tony flew up high in the air and landed harshly on his back, hair singed and smoking.

“ _Iron Man!_ ” exclaimed Steve, running to him. The genius’ eyes were closed, but he was still breathing. “Come on, Tony, wake up! Wake up,” the Captain said, checking his vitals. “Don’t do this to me, Shellhead. Not like this.”

Tony grunted in pain and his lashes flattered open, blue eyes somewhat vacant before fixing back on the other man. “Did—” he paused, coughing. “Did you just call me Shellhead again?”

“Yeah—yeah, I guess I did.” Steve helped him to sit up, a hand on his nape to steed him. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine,” the other Avenger assured him. “Stupid error. I was distracted.”

“By what?”

_By you_ , Tony thought. But he didn’t have the gut to said it out loud. “Why aren’t you mad at me?” he blurted instead. “You see, I want to believe that this is you,  _really_ you, and that this is all real… but then you say something like that, and you act nice, and I just…”

“Tony—”

“You hate me,” he interrupted the Captain firmly.

“I—I don’t—”

“Don’t!” Tony stopped him, raising a hand between them like he wanted to physically block whatever was about to come out of the other man’s mouth. With difficulty he rose to his knees, then to his feet, refusing Steve’s hand. “Let’s not try to kid each other, Cap. I deceived you, you tried to kill me…”

“You didn’t just  _deceive_ me, Tony. You  _betrayed_ me,” Steve stressed, like the genius was expecting he would.

“Yeah. And when the world was ending, you spent the time we had left trying to kill me in retaliation,” he agreed.  _The universes were colliding,_ literally _, and all you wanted was to murder me with your own hands_ . “That’s not something anyone can come back from,” Tony concluded.

Steve’s face crumbled, like the pain was still raw and fresh, like just thinking about it reopened the wound and left him bleeding. He stayed there on his knees for a long minute, like he didn’t have the strength to stand up again; defeated. Then Cap took a shuddering breath and slowly raised on his feet. 

“I’m not saying that I forgot what you did. I don’t think I ever can,” he admitted. “But I had a lot of time to think... I died, Tony. I did. And when I was dying, I didn’t think of you like my enemy—I—I could only think about how much you  _inspired_ me. And  _challenged_ me,” Steve confessed, looking at his own feet. He didn’t see the genius’ eyes widening. “And the truth is… I don’t want to be that kind of person anymore. You hurt me like no one else ever could, and I hated you for that. And I hated hating you, I hated the things that made me do, the person that made me  _become_ . Hating Red Skull and wanting to kill him is one thing, but you…” Steve shook his head. “I don’t want to feel like that ever again.”   

_And it’s my fault you felt like that. I caused that_ , Tony thought with blinding clarity. He made Steve Rogers—Captain America, for God’s sake!—not only hate him, but hate himself. He felt a hysterical laugh try to climb his throat and didn’t manage to stifle it completely.

The super soldier frowned. “You—you find it funny?”

“No. No, I really don’t,” Tony said soberly. “ _Challenged you_ , you said. Yeah, that sounds about right.  _Inspired_ you, though… nah, that just doesn’t make sense.”

“That isn’t true, Tony.”

“Oh, please!” The genius raised is eyes and his hands to the sky like he was begging for some kind of divine mercy. “I’ve been a mess my whole life, Rogers. What could anyone– let alone  _you,_ ” he exclaimed, indicating the other man with an open hand for emphasis, “ever find  _inspiring_ of  _me_ ?” 

“Your _resiliency_ , for one thing,” Steve responded promptly. “Because don’t you see? That’s the whole point: it doesn’t matter how many times life or your enemies or even yourself has brought you down, you always–  _always_ — rise back up. You raise yourself, your fortune, your inventions, your reputation… that’s— _that’s_ really something, Tony. And something  _I_ could never do. Not like you. Or so many times. I just—don’t have it in me.”

“You’re wrong,” he objected. Steve had lived through so many arbors of his own. Waking up sixty years in the future would be enough to drive anyone mad, and then there was that time they all believed him dead but instead he was lost in time again, and Dimension Z, and then losing the serum… and somehow Steve was still standing, still sane, and still  _good_ .

“I’m not finished,” Cap replied. “You are brilliant and you know it—you don’t need me to stroke your ego about that. But you’re also  _kind_ . You were always kind. To me and to everyone, even your enemies. That’s the thing I always admired most of you,” he admitted. “I will never forget that when I woke up in the future you were the one to greet me. You gave me a home. Even if I was just a stranger,” he said, so impossibly... wholesome. “I was just a veteran, with only my shield on my back and nothing to confirm my identity. I was no one, only a memory. But you took me in.”

“The  _Avengers_ took you in—”

“They brought me back, they saved me, but  _you_ took me in. It was you, Tony. I will never forget that.”

Tony sighed and stroked his face with both hands, exhausted. “You do realize that if your goal was to convince me that you’re really  _you_ this doesn’t help, right?” 

Steve clenched his fists in frustration. “What do you want me to say, Stark? Do you want me to shout at you and beet you to a pulp, would that be better?” he barked. “For all that I knew, I was dead. I probably _am_ dead. So I made peace with myself and my past, and yes, that includes  _you_ . Is it really so hard to understand?”

_Now that’s more like it_ , Tony thought. “No no, I get that,” he assured him, very level-headed. “What I  _don’t_ get is why, given the chance, you would try to be friends again. Because, let’s face it, I am who I am, and at this point we both know I will never change. And maybe there are some parts of me that you do like—or we would have never become friends in the first place—but they’ll never be enough to balance out the ugly parts.” He smiled, and even to him it felt hollow and disturbing, but it was his best way to deal. “Why would anyone want somebody like that?”

Steve stared at him for a long time, stone faced. “Because some things are worth the heartbreak,” he said, taking something from his borrowed trousers’ pocket and extending it to to Tony. 

The genius blinked, stunned. 

It was his old Avengers Identicard, with the Iron Man picture in the photo ID. The light signaled a recorded message was flashing.

“Oh my God, I haven’t see that thing in—probably ten years or something,” Tony exclaimed, actually smiling. He tried to take it from Cap, but the super soldier quickly dodged him.

“Wait. I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Steve said.

“What?”

“This isn’t what you think... It’s not just an Avengers ID,” he explained. “I—I found it awhile ago. It’s actually what convinced me this place collects forgotten things. The message inside… it’s your memories, Tony. The memories you’ve lost.”

The genius frowned. “But… that doesn’t make sense. An Identicard could never hold all that data.”

“I don’t think it matters here. The Card is probably just a way to represent the trapped memories. It would catch your attention more than a nondescript hard disk, wouldn’t it? Especially with a message notification flashing.”

“Great,” Tony snarked. “Okay, give me that.”

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea, Tony.”

“Why not?” 

Steve pressed his lips in a pale line. “I don’t think it’s the best thing for you. You don’t need to remember all that.”

“I don’t believe this! After all the grief you gave me for the memories you’d lost—”

“That’s different! I didn’t  _lose_ them, you  _took_ _them away_ from me. Without my consent,” Cap pointed out.

“Same difference. What would you do in  _my_ place?” Tony stressed.

Steve shook his head and placed a hand on the other man shoulder. “Please, Shellhead, just trust me on this,” he pleaded.

“Oh, come on, that’s cheating,” Tony sighed. He never could say no to those baby blues.

He really wanted to listen to Steve because he knew that his conscience was always in the right place. But the last time he did, it didn’t end up well, right? Besides… “You already saw them,” Tony observed.

“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t expecting it when I played the message,” he admitted.

“And the memories made the difference, didn’t they? You saw something that make you change your opinion. About me,” Tony concluded.

Cap nodded. “It helped.”

“Well, you see, now I just have to know,” the genius said helplessly.

Steve grimaced. “No, you don’t,” he insisted. “I don’t want to put you through that again.”

“I already know most of it,” Tony argued. He had read every article and viewed every video he could find, after all.

“It’s really not the same.”

“I think I need to do it anyway.” He lunged forward and grabbed the Card still in Steve’s hand. Tony imagined he would have to play the message, like Cap said. But it wasn’t like that at all. As soon as his finger came in contact with the Avengers Identicard, the memories  _exploded_ . 

 

_It all started with the Illuminati, of course. Tony brought the first draft of the SHRA to them as soon as Fury slipped it to him under the table. Tony tried to make them understand, begged them to came out to the public_ together _, as a united front of heroes. But none of them listened. Only Reed._

_If only he had included Steve in the meeting… but it was already too late. And then..._

_“Five minutes is all I need… What the hell?”_

_Cap planted a scrambler on him with a handshake._

 

They were in Tony’s head, like a virus taking over. It was all so clear, all so real. And, of course, it  _was_ real... 

 

_Kooning blackmailing him with what Yisen’s kid did to him, ‘offering’ for Tony to be head of SHIELD of all things. And then Happy_ — _the only one who really believed in him, in what Tony was doing_ — _was attacked by Spymaster because of him. Happy was beaten into a coma because of him. And Pepper_ — _Pepper asked him to_ — _to…_

_“Please, Tony. I’m not asking you to_ do  _anything. You just have to_ think  _it… right?”_

_Oh God have mercy... he did it. He killed Happy Hogan._

 

And it wasn’t like seeing a movie. He was living them. All over again. He  _felt_ it. Under his hands, in his mind.

 

_Everything had gone downhill from there. Cap using Vision to compromise his armor and Steve_ — _Steve just beating on him with his shield, over and over... The mask smashing to pieces. Cold blue eyes above him._

_“What are you_ waiting _for, Steve?_ Finish it _.”_

_He should have died right there. But he didn’t._

_Steve died instead._

_Tony saw it through the feedback in his own head while he sat in his office on the Helicarrier. Captain America’s body falling on the steps of the courthouse, the uniform bloodied. Tony fell on his knees with him and just_ screamed.

 

Tony distantly felt is body falling. His own head hitting the ground. His unseeing eyes rolling back and his body convulsing. Was he dying?  _Yes, let me die. I deserve that_ ...

 

_“Even though I said I was willing to go_ all the way _with it… I wasn’t. And_ — _and I know this because the worst has happened. The thing I can’t live with_ has happened _…”_

_Steve’s body on a metal table. His face pale and mute. His costume torn, still marred with dirt. The shield spattered with red placed on his chest, covering the mess underneath._

_“There’s one thing I will_ never _be able to tell_ anyone _now. Not my friends or my co-workers or my President… the one thing!! The_ one _thing I_ should _have told you. But now I can’t…” One simple thing. One obvious thing. The thing that made him do all of this. All for nothing._

_“It wasn’t worth it.”_

 

Tony felt hands gripping him, cushioning his head. But it was too far away. And the memories—the memories started coming faster and faster.

 

_The public funeral. Tony breaking down in front of everyone there, and live on TV. He stayed there in the graveyard, under the rain, until there was no one else. Or almost. The Watcher was there too. And he showed Tony... two other realities. The one where all his worst fears happened because he wasn’t there to stop them. And the one_ — _the one even worse._

_Because it was perfect._

_“Steve… Thank you for doing this. I… like I said, I_ believe _in what I’m doing… but I want to be sure I’m doing it the_ right way _...”_

_And Tony could have made it happen, if only he had been more honest._

_“... I need someone I_ trust _to_ make sure _I am...”_

_Or maybe just less prideful._

_“... I need your_ help _, Cap.”_

_And Tony couldn’t stand it. He just couldn’t. “Why..? Why have you come here? Just to_ torture me _?” It was all his fault. Always. He should have died. Why didn’t he die?_ I don’t want to live in a world like this. It doesn’t make sense. Not without Steve. 

Please, Steve, come back _._

_But he didn’t._

_And Tony couldn’t let go or it would have been all for nothing. He had to go on. He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t sleep. But maybe_ — _maybe it was okay, because then he started seeing Happy. And Steve. Even if they attacked him, it was okay. Tony deserved that._

_Maybe it would all end soon. And then he could be with them._

_A lawyer brought him a letter from Steve. Steve wrote to him, asked Tony_ — _Tony, of all people!_ — _to take care of Bucky, and to not let Captain America have died with him._

_‘Yours,_

_Steve Rogers’._

_So Tony did the only logical thing. He gave the shield to Bucky. Made him a new costume too; almost an armor, really. He couldn’t let another Captain America die._

_And then Steve came back, but it was the Captain America of the Invaders, straight from the ‘40’s with the rest of his team, and_ — _and Tony couldn’t show that he knew him already. Or show Cap his face. They had to send them back to their time._

_And then Steve came back again, but it wasn’t really him, no matter how sure he was to be Captain America. It was just a Skrull. And Spider-Woman... no, the Skrull Queen, tried to convince Tony he too was one of them. And oh, wouldn’t that have been better? Easier. Because then it wouldn’t have been really Tony’s fault_ — _the Civil War, Steve’s death, the Invasion… but he was never that lucky._

_And then Janet died. And Osborn_ — _Osborn, for God’s sake!_ — _was appointed as the new head of SHIELD. Or HUMMER, now. And he wanted the list, of course. The list with Spider-Man’s real identity... and every other heros’, really. The list in Tony’s head._

_There was only one thing to do._

_The new Captain America wouldn’t care to bring him back, and Thor hated him. So Tony was free._ Yes, finally. It’s the end. Let me go. I want to go. Let me all do this last thing. This last good thing _. And then maybe he could see Steve again, and tell him. Finally tell him..._

 

“It wasn’t worth it,” Tony exhaled. Someone was calling him. Holding him. Rocking him gently...

“... Tony? Tony!  _Please_ —can you hear me? Shellhead..? Come on, Iron Man, fight it! Come back to me…”

“It wasn’t worth it.”

“I know, Shellhead. I know…”

“S-sorry. So sorry…” Then, mercifully, all went black.

 

*°*°*

 

There was a faint scratching sound. Faint, but not far. Somewhat familiar, even if Tony couldn’t have said what it was exactly. It was comforting, though. Calming. He took a deep breath. His face felt itchy. Tony grumbled, and then a soothing, rocking motion started to sway his body, followed by a creaking sound. What was that noise, now?

“Hmph?” Tony cracked an eye open and, surprisingly, found himself curled on a rocking chair. The wind had dried the tear tracks on his cheeks, making them feel itchy. And there, on the ground beside the chair, was Steve Rogers, a sketchbook propped on a bent knee and a pencil softly scratching at the paper. Tony couldn’t stop staring. 

The sun shone through Steve’s golden hair like a bright halo, the light painting his naked torso with stark black shadows under every muscle and curve. Steve hands were big, but light and long fingered, his palms and fingertips callused. Tony couldn’t remember the last time he saw him drawing. He loved the look of perfect concentration on Cap’s face, the little wrinkle between his brows; Steve was completely engrossed by his work. And was drawing… him. Tony sleeping, hair curled by the sea water, tears tracks and all.

“The first time I met you...” Steve said softly, apparently not so engrossed after all, “I thought you had just stepped out of the silver screen.” He smiled, changing his grip from the tip of the pencil to the bottom, deepening and somehow smoothing a shadow under Tony’s drawn cheekbone with light slashing movement. “You always had that kind of charm. I don’t know, maybe it’s the lashes, so black and long. Almost like a dame. Or the curls.” 

“Not my billion-dollar smile?” Tony croaked, coughing to clear his throat.

“That too,” Steve paused and finally looked at him again, blue eyes searching. “How do you feel, Tony?”

_Like I should have died a long time ago_ . “Oh, you know… per usual, really,” he said.

“Tony,” Cap chided. But the genius had nothing else to say about it. He just kept looking at Steve like he could never have enough of that sight, of him. Steve was  _alive_ . Or, well, as much as Tony was, anyway.

Steve stared right back. “I can’t stop thinking of you in that hospital bed, in Oklahoma, after Osborn... I saw what he did to you live, on TV. And then Jim called us—well, called Bucky, really. He was contacting Captain America, after all... You were just there, hooked on life support, eyes staring at nothing… And you didn’t even know I was back. You left the decision to save your life to Bucky and Thor, of all people.”

Tony didn’t said that they were the two he needed because of the shield and the hammer. And the least biased. He didn’t say that Thor was like a brother to him and that Tony owed him that choice, or that he trusted Bucky to make the smart decision... In the end, Steve had been there. And his mere presence left no one any other choice.

Tony closed his eyes and faced the opposite direction.

“Tony—”

“Why aren’t you more angry at me?” the genius snapped.

Steve sighed. “I wanted to be. At first. For you not talking to me sooner. For you choosing the Illuminati, instead,” he grimaced. “But... I didn’t just see your memories. I  _felt_ them. I felt—I felt you crack, piece by piece. And it started  _with me_ ,” Cap gritted his teeth. “With that false handshake... I betrayed you long before you betrayed me, Tony.”

“No, I—”

“I felt you falling with me,” Steve interrupted him. He was blinking far more than necessary, golden lashes fluttering over glistening blue eyes. “I—I felt you  _shattering_ . Oh God, Tony–” he inhaled sharply as he covered his mouth with a fist. “All that time—all that time I was gone, you wanted to—”

“You  _died_ , Steve.  _I sent you_ to die. I—I had to assist in your  _autopsy_ , to make sure no one tried to—to  _steal_ something. And then plan your funeral— _funerals_ , plural. And—and the  _last_ thing I  _said_ to you,” Tony’s voice broke, “was—was some stupid quip about how sore of a  _loser_ you were.”

“We were both angry,” Steve tried to object.

“No. No, I—I wasn’t. I was just… bitter, and—and— _petty_ ,” Tony choked, his throat closing. “God, I was such an asshole.”

Steve tried to touch his arm, but the other man flinched away. “You were hurt,” Cap whispered. “If it wasn’t for those civilians, if they didn’t stop me, I would have—”

“You  _should_ have.”

“ _Don’t_ say that!”

“It would have been the best thing to do. For  _everyone_ ,” Tony declared.

“And what about  _me_ , Tony?” the Captain barked, standing up, sketchbook forgotten. “How do you think  _I_ would have felt, with your blood on my hands?!”

“ _Especially_ for you!” he shot back, talking above the super soldier.

“You think I could have  _lived_ with  _myself_ ?” Steve stressed. “You are my  _brother_ !”

“ _No_ . No, I’m  _not_ !  _Bucky_ is your brother.  _Sam_ is your brother. I’m just the traitor who keeps  _ruining_ your  _life_ !” Tony roared. “ _Don’t you see?_ Every time I tried to do the right thing I became the villain,” he pressed. “You should have  _left me_ in that bed.”

The Captain closed his fists and a muscle in his jaw jumped with tension. He seemed awfully close to punching him, and the genius wasn’t surprised at all.  _This is how we roll_ , he thought. But, after a strained moment, Steve took a deep breath and forcefully extended his contracted fingers and muscles, rotating his shoulders and neck to release the tension. He stroked his face with both palms, then bent a knee in front of the rocking chair and grabbed Tony’s forearms.

“I will never understand how you can hate yourself so much,” he said sadly, using the grip on his arm to make Tony stand with him.

Tony smiled. “Oh, it’s very easy to hate me… you know that.”

“No, Tony,” Cap said softly, bringing an arm over his neck and the other around his chest, holding the genius to him. “It’s heartbreaking.” 

Tony stood very still, frozen in place. He couldn’t remember the last time Steve allowed him to touch him in any not-threatening way, and the Captain usually wasn’t the one to initiate any show of affection. On top of that, they were both quite underdressed. But Steve didn’t seem intentioned to let go any time soon and, after a while, Tony raised his own arms, holding him tight.

He could feel the fabric of Steve’s trousers brushing his legs, left bare by the satin dressing gown, and the smooth skin of Cap’s back under his fingertips, warm and unblemished. There wasn’t even a little scar on him, not since the serum had made disappear every old trace of hurt and flawlessly healed the new. Tony violently repressed those thoughts. 

“You scared me with that last stunt, Iron Man,” the super soldier whispered on his neck. “You started seizing, and I thought…”

“Sorry,” Tony mumbled. Steve smelled so good. A verse of some half-forgotten song came to his mind: ‘ _Freedom has a scent, like the top of a newborn baby’s head’_ . He smiled helplessly and almost giggled.

“What?” Cap said, confused.

“You smell like freedom.”

Steve scoffed and let him go with a light slap on the back of his head. “You should rest for a while longer.”

“I don’t think so. I have work to do. We—and by  _we_ I mean  _you_ —need to go home like yesterday,” the genius reminded him. “There’s someone walking around with your face and inciting war between heroes. We—and by  _we_ I mean  _I_ —have to fix that.”

The Captain sighed, recognizing by his tone he wasn’t going to talk him into rest. “Fine. I’ll just have to make you take a break in an hour or so.”

Tony scoffed, marching to his pile of electronic junk and the device he was building before all the drama. They brought a lot of drama in this sunny place, really. “I don’t feel tired,” he assured the super soldier. “Now that I think about it… I don’t feel hungry or thirsty, either,” Tony realized suddenly. It had been hours since he woke up in the island for the first time, maybe half a day, thought it was difficult to say how much time had passed; the sun seemed to always be in the same position. And he wasn’t even thirsty. Like, at all. “What about you?” he asked Steve.

“Now that you mention it, I haven’t slept at all since I got here, or eaten. But I thought it was because—”

“You thought you were dead” Tony recalled.

“Yeah. That kind of confirmed my theory.”

The genius immediately dismissed it. “Nah, it only means time is fixed here.” He had to add that to his calculations now. Tony sat back on the ground beside the pile of electronic gears and put himself to work.

 

“Ouch!” he exclaimed after a while, when a spark shocked his fingers. Tony instinctively brought the tips to his mouth, sucking on them. “ _Fuck_ . This isn’t working,” he mumbled around them.

Steve jumped up and left whatever he was doing to run to him. “Are you okay, Iron Man?” he asked, crouching next to him. “Let me see,” he ordered, taking his hand.

“I’m fine. I just need a few more things to make this baby work,” Tony assured him.

“What do you need?” Cap said after examining his fingers and making sure he was really okay. Steve seemed to forget he had to let him go, and Tony—well, Tony should have asked to have his hand back, but he didn’t. He was a really tactile person, always had been, and the only reason he wasn’t constantly touching Steve before was the bitter history between them. But now that Cap had hugged him… it was like his subconscious had taken it as permission to touch as much as he wanted. Tony was having a hard time keeping his hands to himself. Staying busy helped. But now Steve was kind of right in his face.

Tony took a deep breath, squashing those feelings. “I have no idea,” he admitted, checking his mental list. He wouldn’t find anything like that here. “I’ll know when I see it,” he said, slipping his hand from Steve’s grasp before picking himself up. He squashed the sense of loss and walked to the next pile of junk, the hill still to be sorted. 

Cap seemed to take that as a signal to start drawing again while the genius scavenged, finding paper clips, spools of thread, pins, a slapper, a silver necklace... he stuffed all the useful things in the dressing gown pockets and made a pile of other little funny things on the ground in the process. 

At some point, Steve turned the gramophone back on, humming while he drew. It wasn’t exactly Tony’s genre, but he found himself singing along anyway because he was just that kind of person. He wasn’t even aware of doing it, really, until Cap commented about it.

“You always had a nice voice,” he said, smiling without taking his eyes of the paper. 

“Uhm… it’s probably something my mother passed me along with her genes,” Tony mused. 

Steve looked up to him now, surprised. “Your mother?” 

“Oh, right, you were here while… I found her,” the genius explained. “I found my biological mother.”

“That’s—that’s amazing, Tony! It is, right? Did you talk to her? Is she nice? Was she glad to meet you?”

“She’s…” Tony found himself blushing for some reason. “She’s awesome. And—and very nice. We were both nervous, I think. It’s a recent thing, just before whole the mess with Carol. We managed to keep in contact though... And yeah, she is so nice. I’m a big fan of her—Oh! Oh, you would never guess who my mother is!”

“Oh? She is a singer?” Steve asked, curious.

“A famous one!” Tony was almost jumping in his enthusiasm. “She is — brace yourself — Amanda Strong.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “ _Amanda Strong_ ? ‘Disinterest’ Amanda Strong? I love her music!”

“I know! Everyone loves her music!”

“Oh my God, Tony. This—This is  _huge_ . I’m—I’m really happy for you,” Steve looked at him with so much warmth that Tony felt himself about to vibrate out of his own skin.

“Thanks, Cap. I’m… I’m really glad I can talk to you about these things again,” he admitted, stroking a hand on the back of his neck.

Steve smiled very softly. “Come here,” he urged the other man, opening his arms. “Tell me everything.”

Tony picked up from the ground the little pile of things he had selected, hiding an embarrassed smile, and brought it with him before sitting next to the super soldier. He carefully placed every item in front of Steve: a charcoal pencil, a cutter, a fountain pen and an eraser shaped like the American flag. “I stumbled upon them while…” he pointed a thumb to the hills of forgotten things. 

Steve’s smile became even brighter. “Thank you, Shellhead.”

“So, I was actually born in Bulgaria...”

 

“Oookay, it’s ready,” Tony announced. 

The Captain came to his side and studied the final product skeptically. It looked like a gutted Walkman kept together by strings and paperclips. He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about this?”

“It isn’t pretty, I know, but it will get the job done. Mostly,” the genius assured him.

“What do you mean  _mostly_ ?”

Tony winced. “Yeah, about that…” he hesitated. Cap wouldn’t like what was about to hear. “The good news is: it can get you home. The slightly bad news is… I can’t come with you.”

Silence.

Steve looked petrified. “What?” he croaked out, after a long time.

“It only works from here and someone needs to stay behind to make it work, so…”

“So we wait until you make something better and we can both go back,” Cap said firmly.

“Steve, listen to me, we are on a schedule,” the other Avenger reminded him. “We don’t have time to waste. You need to go back and stop the impostor. It will work perfectly—”

“It  _doesn’t_ if you can’t come  _with me_ !” the super soldier stressed. “I’m  _not_ leaving you behind.”

“Look, you aren’t, I’ll just... follow you a bit later,” Tony minimized. “Or, once you are home, you can contact Strange, or T’Challa, and they can open a portal on your side. Whichever comes first.”

“Then  _you_ should go. You can build something in an instant, now that you know where to find me!”

“They need you, Cap,” Tony insisted. “No one would believe me if I said the other Steve Rogers is an impostor. They would never believe it coming from me.” Besides, no one needed him. A young, brilliant girl was ready to be the new armored hero, and Tony had already uploaded all of his memories into a AI to guide Riri and take his place. For all intents and purposes, he was already on the other side. No one would miss him. 

“I don’t like this, Iron Man,” Cap declared. “I—I just found you.”

And wasn’t that something? Maybe that was why they were both here. They had lost each other, hadn’t they? And this was a place for lost things; things forgotten, left behind. 

“You need to leave me here. You have to go, Steve,” Tony said, sure of it. 

Cap grit his teeth, a muscle in his squared jaw jumping with tension. “For Christ’s sake, Tony! It’s always the same story with you. Why do you do this? You are not replaceable. We need you. The Avengers, the world... I—I need you.”

_No, you don’t_ , Tony thought. He smiled sadly. “You know what they say about bad pennies. I’ll be back. You won’t even know I’m gone,” he tried to reassure him. “Ready?” He switched on the machine.

“No. No, I’m not,” Steve said urgently. He grabbed the genius by the back of his neck and pulled him against his chest, touching Tony forehead to his own. “You have to come home, Iron Man. You have to come home soon, okay? Because there’s something we need to talk about.”

“Uh oh. That’s not exactly encouraging, you know?” he mumbled.

“Shut up, Tony,” Steve said and then proceeded to shut him up with his own lips. And he wasn’t gentle or cautious either. He took Tony’s mouth like he was starving for it, and the genius was too stunned to react in any way besides closing his eyes and letting Steve Rogers do just about whatever the hell he wanted with his body.

“Oh my God...” Tony panted breathlessly an eternity later. “Do you always go all ‘America on the shore of Normandy’ on a guy? Fuck...” And then Tony kissed him back, because apparently  _he could_ . 

He felt the Captain trying to reach the device, but the genius quickly dodged his questing hand, even with his eyes closed. Tony pressed the button for the portal and ripped himself from Steve’s lips at the same time. 

“Tony, no!”

“Goodbye, Winghead,” he whispered before shoving Steve inside the bright blue hole in the air.

And then the portal was closed, and Tony was looking at nothing. 

In the end, all he had was always nothing.

A little Teddy Bear dressed like another amazing hero from the ’40’s was looking at him with black button eyes, on top of a pile of other forgotten things like him. Like them.

“Guess it’s just you and me now, buddy,” Tony whispered, picking him up. “Like old times.”

Both lost.

 

*°*°*°*

 

The drop felt bottomless and too short all at the same time. After an eternity and just a second, Steve’s back and then his head hit a hard, unforgiving floor. He scrambled onto his knees as soon as he could, but it was already too late. “No! NO!” The portal closed on Tony’s sad, remote eyes. 

“Goddammit, Tony! Goddammit!” the Captain screamed, hitting his fist on the bare floor. Why did it alway — always! — have to go like that between them? Why couldn’t Tony just  _listen_ to him. One. Damn. Time?!

“Oh God…” Steve barely noticed he was back in his old apartment. The one in Brooklyn, where he hadn't stepped foot in years. “Oh…  _Oh God_ …” Tony was still there. On the island.  _Alon_ e. With the  _memories_ —all those horrible,  _vivid_ memories—from their war back in his  _head_ . “Please, don’t let him do something stupid… please, give him back to me… please don’t take him away from me. Not again.” He had to get Strange. Or T’Challa. Or Beast. Anyone. Everyone.

A bright blue flash appeared at the corner of his eye, just in his peripheral vision. Steve turned around sharply. A portal! It had to be another portal...

Instead, a little girl with long black hair was there. 

“You shouldn’t be here!” she said, upset. 

“Kobik?”

“You’re going to ruin everything!” the self-conscious Cosmic Cube exclaimed, her eyes starting to glow in her best tantrum mode. “I won’t let you!” Kobik threw out her hands like she wanted to hit him and—Steve’s vision went white. Then, completely black.

 

There was a dark forest all around him, wrapped in the silence and smells of deep night. And the clear sound of a stream. Yes, running water. He woke up on the shore of a river, vertigo knocking him back on his ass when he tried to stand. Where was he? How did he get there? He needed to get to... to… someone. Get home. 

And then he heard it.

Someone was screaming. It was distant, but his sharp ears could hear it. He dashed in that direction without even thinking. And he saw them: some thugs were running after a blonde woman. 

He fended them off easily.

“W-Who  _are_ you?! What do you want?!” she asked, beautiful even with one of her bright blue eyes swollen shut. She looked strangely familiar...

“My name is  _Steve Rogers_ . I’m just trying to get home,” he declared. Because that was who he was. And because that was what he had to do... wasn’t it? He felt like there was something he was supposed to  _do_ . Something really important…

But what?

  
  
 


End file.
